


One of My Kind

by EmilyweepsforPilfrey



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Fun, JUST, M/M, Multi, Set during World Enough and Time, The highly requested Missy/Simm!Master/12 fic, Voyeurism, but written before it airs, proudly brought to you by the weird AEST liveblog party 2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 12:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyweepsforPilfrey/pseuds/EmilyweepsforPilfrey
Summary: Missy's just out to have a little fun while pretending to be the Doctor. With the Doctor watching her and her past self around, fun is guaranteed.





	One of My Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm not saying I will write a follow-up chapter, but I'm not saying I won't write a follow-up chapter. 
> 
> The title is from the songs Need You Tonight by INXS/the remix called One of My Kind by the Rogue Traders. (The Master would approve).

The sound of his voice in her ear just spurs her on. If he thinks growling her name in reprimand will get her to stop, then he clearly hasn’t been paying attention to what turns her on. 

He would deny it, of course, that there’s a rush of blood southwards every time she pretends to be him. He both loves and hates that he defies her this way. She does it because she's her, but he can't shake the feeling that he's just lost control of everything. 

Fun. It’s fun, she thinks, that she can completely destroy his reputation. It’s fun that, sitting back in the TARDIS, there’s nothing he can do to stop her. It’s thrilling that he’s completely focused on her, watching her onscreen and giving her advice. She listens to it, because she likes the sounds of his voice, but ultimately ignores it. She doesn’t need him to teach her how to have fun. 

It’s a long leash he’s given her and she tugs it longer at will. Maybe she’ll strangle someone with it. All in the name of fun. 

The Mistress is in charge now. 

“I am the Doctor and I demand to be taken to your leader,” she announces to the room.  

“Be polite,” comes the voice in her ear. She chuckles. It infuriates him, her lack of basic manners.  He’s reprimanding her, but there’s a hint of mirth in his voice as he lazes back in his chair and enjoys the show she’s putting on.

" _Please_ ," she whispers softly, mockingly. It’s just for him. She hears his sharp intake of breath. _Lovely_. 

Then it all goes downhill. _He_ arrives like a dark cloud rolling in over the horizon.

 “The Doctor?” comes the very familiar voice from behind Missy. “Doctor Who?” 

Missy’s head snaps up when she hears her previous self. A smirk spreads onto her face.

The Doctor tenses in his chair and sits up. Even after all this time with Missy, the sight of the Master still alarms him.

“Get back to the TARDIS,” the Doctor orders in her ear, frantic and desperate. “Now.” 

She ignores the Doctor. 

 “You know who,” Missy says as she saunters over to the Master, excitement barely contained. Oh, of all the people to meet when she’s pretending to be the Doctor.

“Missy, I mean it,” the Doctor warns. “Get back here now.” 

Well she’s hardly going to listen to him when there’s the opportunity for this much fun.

 “Master,” she greets him, watching as his eyes light up at the use of his name. She's always loved hearing the Doctor say her name.  

The Doctor watches on the screen in his TARDIS, powerless, at Missy reaches out her hand. 

“Missy, don’t do it.” 

The Doctor can’t let them touch. 

“Doctor,” the Master says, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it, his fingers slipping around to feel her twin pulses. She doesn’t blame him for checking. His eyes flick to the TARDIS in the background.

Missy can hear the Doctor’s sharp intake of breath in her ear when she touches her (former) self. She smiles deviously. It's nice to know he still cares. 

 "It's been a long time," Missy says with a sigh. 

“I have to say, this regeneration suits you,” the Master replies, making no attempt to hide the fact that he is checking her out. 

The Doctor scowls in his TARDIS. It’s just inappropriate, is what it is. It doesn’t help that Missy is also eyeing up her former self.  

“Well, Master,” she replies, making sure to emphasise his name, “it could suit you too.” 

 He laughs, deep and throaty. “Me as a woman?  That would be the day.” 

She chuckles, an inside joke she won't let him in on just yet.  

“You know, Master,” she goes on. “I always wanted to see what you’d be like as a woman.” 

She reaches out to touch his chest, palm spread wide as she explores. She feels his racing heartbeats. She knows what it feels like to be touched by the Doctor, that pure excitement and desperation for more. Her eager expression matches his. It's anticipation.

“It's always been a secret fantasy of mine,” she confesses.

"You've had your fun Missy, now come back to me," the Doctor says. Missy’s hand falls to her side. If her intention is to embarrass him, then she’s achieved her goal.   

But, oh, she's just getting started. 

She can almost feel the Master's hearts beating along with hers. It's strange. They're her hearts too, but not anymore. So why does she feel them? 

They thump. 

One two three four. 

_One two three four._

**_One two three four._ **

She knows he feels it too. 

"Doctor, would you care to dance?" 

There's no music, but she takes his hand and lets him lead her out onto the floor. 

He takes her by the waist and they start to move, dancing to their own song. 

" _Missy_."

She smiles, a truly happy smile – not a facade or a manipulation or a pretence. She allows herself to enjoy the moment, knowing that he won't snatch it away from her. It's a nice feeling. 

" _Missy, no_." 

He spins her out and then back in. She ends up closer to him before and their eyes meet, swaying together to the silence. She can see it in his eyes, that he's loving this. He's dancing with the Doctor and she's dancing with her old friend. It's all they've ever wanted.  It's not just a happy moment, it's _the_ moment. It's the moment they will think of in the darkest hour, when they're broken and dying, when they're about to light the fuse and set the world on fire. It was beautiful, they'll think. We were happy. Why did it have to end? But it doesn't. 

" _Missy, don't_." 

They're leaning in. It's mutual, completely equal, and she almost doesn't recognise the feeling. There's no plan, no desperation. It's pure and simple. She wants to kiss him. She does, but he gets there first. 

It's nice, she decides, kissing herself. She doesn't want, she doesn't ache. He gives just as much as her. He wants it just as badly as she does. 

Then she hears it, the sound that brings her back down to earth. A broken, small sound as if his voice is shattered. 

"Missy." 

The kiss is over in seconds. 

She realises the Doctor's been talking, pleading. Her hearts sink. This is why they can't have nice things. One of them always gets hurt in the end. 

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, so soft she doesn't even think any sound comes out. 

“Missy.”

Then she hears it in his voice, the anger, and how dare he! She isn’t one of his little pets that runs around blindly following his orders.

"Missy, get back to the TARDIS right now. This isn't part of the deal." 

He doesn't say it, but she hears it. Back to the vault. No more adventures for her. 

Well, she's never been one to follow orders.

He's kept her for nearly a century, leaving her high and dry in that cell. He had his chance. He has no say in who she kisses. Let him watch. Let him hurt. 

She leans in to the Master again. 

She hears the Doctor this time. 

"Missy," he warns. 

She ignores him. 

"Missy, I'm not messing around here." 

She grabs the Master's lapels. 

"Missy, please."

She kisses him again and the Doctor won't stop her. 

"Do you want to hear me say I'm jealous?" the Doctor asks. "Is that what this is about? Well there. Have it." 

Oh, Doctor, you don't know the meaning of jealousy yet, she thinks as she pushes closer to the Master, tongue slipping between his lips.

The Doctor can’t take it. Missy hears a crackling sound and he’s obviously taken his earpiece out.

He tosses the earpiece down and turns to walk away. He won’t let her play with him like this. It’s all a game she’s manipulating just to get him to say and do the things she wants him to. Well, he won’t play it. He intends to retreat into the bowels of the TARDIS and not return for a century or so, not until she’s long gone. Or maybe he’ll just leave, set the coordinates for a faraway galaxy and leave her behind.

That’s when he realises it. After all he’s done, after all the progress she’s made towards being “good”, if he walks away now, he’ll lose her. He turns back to the screen.

Missy hears the sound of the Doctor’s breath in her ear. He's back. It’s comforting. She likes to know he’s watching her. But it’s not enough to get her to stop her assault on the Master’s lips.

“What is it going to take to get you to stop?” she hears the Doctor ask quietly. He's getting desperate. Just the way she likes him.

 She pulls the Master closer, lips moving hungrily. She bites his bottom lip and she knows he likes it. She always liked it when the Doctor did it to her.  

 “Missy,” the Doctor protests again. She can hear desperation leaking into his words. If it is about embarrassing him, consider it done. If it is just to prove she can, well she's done that too. There's no need for this to continue. " _Please_." 

But she's not going to deny herself.

She pulls back. Time to step this up a notch.   

“Do you know what has always been my biggest fantasy, Master?” 

"Conquering the world with me? Turning me good? Keeping me like your little pet?" 

She laughs without reserve, throwing her head back. 

"Missy," the Doctor growls. "Missy don't." 

A sharp gasp escapes her as the Master wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him.  She’s almost forgotten that he’s as impulsive as her.

“Oh do tell me, Doctor. I'm _dying_ to know. ” 

”Missy _.”_   He’s pleading.

"Well, _Master_ , I've always wanted you to take me in my TARDIS." He makes a noise of approval, raising his eyebrows in glee. "On the center console." 

Whether she's talking as him or as herself, the Doctor isn't sure. Either way, this charade has gone on long enough. 

"Oh, Doctor," the Master says, "you have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say those words." 

Her face comes alive in anticipation. How fun, she thinks.  

And then the Doctor says it, possibly the cruellest thing he's ever said to her. He regrets in instantly. 

"He wouldn't love you if he knew you’re not me." 

It sickens her to her stomach. She wants to scream and tear the Doctor to pieces. She wants to clutch at him and shout "why do you always have to hurt me?" She doesn't. She can't. No matter what, she still loves him, always loves him.

“Take me,” she whispers to the Master, but maybe it’s just as much to the Doctor.

The Doctor scowls, throwing his earpiece to the ground and standing up. He isn't going to stand around and watch this. He's furious at her. He won't indulge her and watch her show. 

As a momentous “fuck you” to the Doctor, Missy grabs the Master greedily and kisses him with renewed vigour. With her lips latched onto his, they stumble towards the TARDIS, crashing into its shut doors. She opens the doors with a snap of her fingers and chuckles as she sees how impressed the Master is by this. 

"You think you can impress me with your tricks?" the Master goads, grinning. 

"Oh, you've always enjoyed my tricks before, Master," she responds. It’s true.

The two Masters stumble into the TARDIS like a whirlwind, bringing everything the Doctor wishes he could have but now knows he can't. Trust is a fragile thing once it's broken. He stands in the shadows, watching from above. 

The former Master rips at _his_ master's clothes, dropping her jacket to the floor barely half a metre inside the door. The Doctor snaps his fingers, shutting the door behind them. He means to leave, he really does. He sees white buttons scatter on his floor and Missy's shirt flutters open in tatters. He should walk away, but the Master has his lips on her breast. 

Her back arches, bent over the railing and she tips her head back.  She laughs. It's pure and joyous and gleeful. He doesn't know if she sees him. Is she looking? He steps further back into the darkness. He should go.  

Missy turns her attention back to her former self to where he's found his way under her skirts.  

"I believe I was promised console sex," she reminds him. 

"Lead the way, Doctor," he says. 

She walks over to the console, a bounce in her step, and hops up on the console. She beckons to the Master, smiling coyly, but he's with her in milliseconds. She captures his lips again. 

The Doctor's leaving. He will not be forced to watch this in his own ship – he's already furious at her for granting the Masters access. The traitorous bitch has even dimmed the lights for them. At least it means the Masters don’t see him standing up there. Maybe that was her intention. It doesn’t matter. He’s going to leave.

He sees the way her body gets pulled forwards as the Master unlaces her corset with absolutely no patience. He should take more care with her. The Doctor considers himself a patient man. He would unlace the garment slowly, taking the time to do it right. He would work with two hands before placing one on her hip, thumb and forefinger pulling at the crossed strings. But no, he realises, that’s not what she would want. With her hand in his hair, she would tug at it. _Hurry up_.

She grins into the darkness as her body rocks against the Master’s movements. She’s tossed his jacket and shirt to the floor. It’s rude, the Doctor thinks, of her to not use the coat rack.

It’s time to leave, he tells himself, when the Master tosses her corset to the floor. He will deny that his body reacts to seeing her half naked, lying back on his TARDIS console. The Master’s lips make their way down her body and the Doctor tastes the bitter tang of jealousy in his mouth. He unbuttons her skirt and it slides to the ground. She’s bare underneath.

The Doctor’s feet take him a step to the left and if it gives him a better view, well, then so be it. He’s on his way out.  

The Master’s head dips between the Mistress’ legs, but all the Doctor can see is her face - her wonderfully expressive face - as she cries out, tipping her head back. She’s loud. Theatrical even.  Her moans cut through the still air in the TARDIS. There’s a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, like tar, thick and bubbling as he watches. He wants to tear his eyes away, spare himself the jealously, but he can’t seem to make himself.

It’s too much, he thinks. An assault on the senses. Start slow. A tentative kiss to her inner thigh. Build. Slowly, gradually. Let the pleasure roll over her in soft waves. Let her ask him for more and he will give it. Gently. But then he realises that’s not what she wants. She’s clutching at the Master’s head, holding him to her and grinding against his face.

 As her first orgasm hit her, he realises he’s ignorant. The Doctor doesn’t know what she likes. But she does. _He_ seems to too. The Doctor watches.

She pulls the Master up, kissing him hungrily. She is not shy about what she wants, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down.

The Doctor doesn’t see what she does, just sees the muscles in her arm flex as it moves. He’s uncomfortable. He adjusts the front of his trousers.

Then Missy’s sliding forwards to the edge of the console. One hand rests on his shoulder, the other splayed across his back. The Master’s hips begin to rock.

Her nails are sharp, scratching, digging into the Master’s back. It only serves to heighten his pleasure.

The Doctor knows what’s going on. The sick feeling in his stomach returns. He should’ve left.

She starts quietly and the Doctor thinks he can bare it. But as her pleasure grows, so too do her moans.  It’s a performance, he thinks, whether she’s aware of her audience or not. It hurts, he realises, watching this. It’s like he watching what he could’ve had two times over.

 “Oh, Doctor,” the Master groans. The sound goes straight to the Doctor’s groin.

“ _Master_ ,” she sighs in reply.

She stares into the darkness, eyes piercing. The Doctor knows she sees him. She knows he’s there, watching.

“I win,” she mouths.

“I know,” he mouths back.

He’s powerless, under her spell. All he can do is watch, wishing he was the one giving her such pleasure.

She leans back against the console to allow the Master deeper, legs in the air. She’s jolted unexpectedly and bumps one of the controls. The TARDIS shudders, but it’s harmless. She’s still biolocked out. Missy meets the Masters eyes and they laugh. A breathy gasp and she laughs again. Fun. It’s all in the name of fun.  

It’s sickening, the Doctor thinks, that they’re doing this. His TARDIS. His Mistress. His Master.

“Enough.”

The Doctor’s voice rings out through the TARDIS, cutting through the sounds of their moans. He’s stern and angry, fed up with Missy’s games.

The Master stills inside her, turning his head to see where the voice came from. Missy sits up, wrapping her legs around the Master to keep him close. Excitement fills her eyes as she watches the Doctor make his way down the stairs.

Her whole body feels like it’s thrumming. It’s that anticipation again. But whether it’s for the Master or the Doctor she doesn’t know.

“Oh, there are two of you, Doctor!” the Master exclaims eagerly like his wildest dream has just come true.

“ _Missy_.”

It’s the Doctor’s final warning to her.  Tell the truth or he will.

She appreciates that he’s given her this last opportunity for fun.

With the Master still buried deep inside her, she turns to meets his gaze.

“No, Master,” she says honestly. “There are two of us.”

She watches the grin spread across his face as realisation dawns on him.  

“Oh you naughty little minx,” he chastises as he moves inside her again, fucking her with a new found vigour.

She laughs gleefully and he joins her, the two of them celebrating her trickery. It’s clever. The Master’s always been clever.

Missy looks over the Master’s shoulder to see the Doctor standing there with a look of awkward envy on his face. He’s said his piece, had his rage, but now he doesn’t know what to do. She crooks a finger, beckoning to him.

The Master doesn’t see her action, but he’s thinking the same thing.

“You know you can join us, Doctor!” he calls over his shoulder.

Missy watches the Doctor, expectantly, eyes alight and pleading with him. She can see the indecision on his face. He hasn’t immediately shunned the idea and that gives her hope.

“Please, Doctor,” she mouths as she moves with the Master, head falling back in an involuntary moan.

She looks to the Doctor again. He takes a step forward and hesitates. She keeps her eyes locked on him, calling him closer like a siren. She tempts him with her body, her cries and her pleasure. She reassures him with her eyes because she knows he’s scared.

Slowly, step by step, he moves closer. It seems to take an age for him to get to her. But she smiles, victorious, because she knows he’s given in to her.

He reaches out to join them.

She takes his hand.


End file.
